


In Another World

by HysteriaLevi



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23255461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HysteriaLevi/pseuds/HysteriaLevi
Summary: AMERICA, 1907 - In another world where Arthur survived RDR2, he’s now living with the consequences of his actions and constantly being pursued by bounty hunters who want to make some easy money. When a particular young man shows up at his door however, Arthur realizes there’s something different about him, and the two of them slowly start to fall for each other.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	1. End of the Line

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I literally just started another fanfic for RDR2, but this was an idea I wanted to try out as well. Hope you guys like it :)

AUGUST, 1907

THE TOWN CHURCH, VALENTINE

FROM JOSEPH’S POV

Death.

It was... a peculiar thing.

We all expected it. We all knew it was going to come for us someday. We all saw it lurking in the shadows, taunting us with a smile, and yet... it was such a hard concept for us to grasp.

At least, it was for me.

Ever since I was a boy, my father told me the most amazing stories.

He told me stories about men in the Wild West who were heroes, idols, outlaws. Men who once lived and breathed the same as the rest of us, but had been immortalized in legends that would be shared for years to come.

I always wanted to be one.

I wanted people to talk about me the same way they talked about those men.

For my whole life, I dreamed of being one of those people who could stare death in the eye without wavering. Who could challenge it face-to-face and say, “come and get me.”

...But now?

After everything that’s happened? After everything I’ve seen?

I wasn’t sure such a person even existed.

How was it possible that one could face the end of their life -- the end of all their dreams, memories, fears, doubts -- and not feel afraid?

The idea of someone who was like me -- who could’ve been me -- just... dropping out of this world and never coming back...

Truly, it was a concept that I found unfathomable. And now that death itself was on my family’s doorstep, waiting for all of us to answer...

I didn’t know what to do.

I didn’t know how to feel.

I didn’t know how to fight back.

“...It’s a shame,” a man’s voice suddenly said from behind me, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Aaron showed a lot of promise.”

Whirling around in surprise, I found a distinct-looking man sauntering through the church’s open doors, the pale light from outside causing his figure to appear as nothing more than a silhouette.

He didn’t look familiar to me. I never saw anyone quite like him wandering around town, and his overall demeanor was enough to tell me he wasn’t a local.

I glanced back at my brother’s casket in confusion, resting a hand on the edge. “You... you knew Aaron?”

The man nodded, removing his hat. “Better than you realize.”

He didn’t appear to be that much older than me. Roughly thirty years, I estimated. He had short black hair, a neat beard, blue-grey eyes, and a noticeable scar on his cheekbone. There was also a customized Schofield revolver hanging from his waist, and his overall attire was actually quite elegant, including the white hat in his grip.

I approached him cautiously. “And... who are you?”

The man walked up beside me, gazing down at the casket.

“That isn’t important. What’s important... is that you understand your current situation, Joseph.”

A sense of worry took hold of me. “Wait, you know my name?”

“You, your mother’s, your sister’s, and your father’s. Though, your pa’s dead, so he ain’t that relevant in this conversation. And neither is your brother, in fact. Truth be told, I came here for you.”

“Me?” I repeated. “What could you need me for? I don’t even know your name.”

The man paused for a moment, quietly observing me as his eyes pierced through my own.

If I was being perfectly honest, this man frightened me. Not only did he know my name, but something about him also said that he was a dangerous person to be around. He carried himself in the same manner as the criminals I often saw hanging at the gallows, and on top of that, the way he spoke was surprisingly erudite.

I was starting to question if his relationship with my brother was even cordial. At first, I simply assumed he was a friend of Aaron’s that I never heard about, but the more he talked about my brother, the more he sounded like an enemy who had come here to take in the view of an old rival’s corpse.

It made my heart pound with anxiety to consider the possibilities, but I was even more fearful to discover what he had in mind for me.

I waited in silence, dreading to hear his response.

“...Your brother was an outlaw, Joseph,” he finally said. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of that, but he worked with killers, thieves, gangs... he even worked for me.”

A nervous breath escaped me. “What? So... you’re part of a gang, then?”

The man chuckled. “The leader of one, actually. I loaned a whole lotta money to Aaron when he was still walkin’ around. He promised to pay it back eventually -- they always do. But, ah... unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to be capable of doing that anymore, does he? So, the debt’s on your head now.”

Upon hearing that, my fear was immediately replaced by anger and I stepped closer to the outlaw, glaring straight at him.

“My brother’s corpse is barely cold yet and you come loan-sharking at his funeral? In a church, no less? What the hell is wrong with you?”

The man instantly grabbed my collar with a shocking amount of force and pulled me towards him, causing me to stumble on my feet as his expression hardened into a glower.

“Listen to me, Joseph,” he said lowly. “We can be kind with each other, we can be civil about this... or, I can tell the undertaker to prepare another coffin for you. So... what’s it gonna be?”

He leaned in, still holding me in his grip. “You don’t want this fight, Mr. Woodley. Trust me. You don’t.”

I spoke through shaky breaths, praying to God that somebody outside would notice what was happening.

“Okay...!” I complied. “Okay. I’ll... pay back the debt. Just calm down. How much did my brother owe?”

The man released me, clearly in a much more irritable mood now.

“I never said he was payin’ us with money, did I. As a way to pay off the debt, Aaron agreed to take down two of my gang’s worst enemies: Arthur Morgan, and Dutch van der Linde. They’re both outlaws. Been running from the law for decades now. Morgan’s retired from that life, but from what I understand, Van der Linde is still in the business. It’s your job to kill them.”

I flicked my eyes around in bewilderment, unable to believe what this man was demanding from me.

“Wha-- you want me to kill someone?”

“Two men, actually.”

I dragged a hand down my face, gesturing to my brother’s body out of frustration.

“Look, I dunno what Aaron did, but I ain’t a killer, mister. I was raised to look after livestock. Not shoot a gun! I’ll pay back my brother’s debt, but not like this.”

The man wasn’t having it. “Well, unfortunately for you, this is the only way you can pay it back. So, unless you want me to come after your mother and sister too, I suggest you take the job.”

I threw my hands up in a defeated manner, wishing I could just run away from this situation and never look back.

I wasn’t a bounty hunter, for goodness’ sake. My father taught me how to use a gun here and there, but it was only ever to keep wolves away from our sheep. I didn’t know how to track people down, or how to fight, and there was also the fact that I had never killed a man before. I was pretty much useless when it came to this sort of thing.

Lord only knew what this man thought I was capable of, but if I was actually going to accept this job, part of me had a feeling he’d right be back in this church, harping my mother or sister about the debt again.

There was no way in hell I’d ever be fully prepared for this kind of task, but for the sake of my family... I knew I had to do it. I had to keep them safe.

I let out an uneasy sigh and brought my gaze back to Aaron’s lifeless face, pondering the heavy decision while the man waited for a reply.

“...Alright.” I finally agreed, albeit reluctantly.

The outlaw appeared genuinely surprised. “So, you’ll do it, then?”

“Yes.” I said softly. “...I’ll do it.”

The man slowly reached into his coat and pulled out two bounty posters, steadily handing them over to me.

“Don’t come back until they’re dead. I’ll be waiting for you in West Elizabeth.”

He pointed a threatening finger at me, giving me one last warning before taking his leave.

“If I find out you tried to run away, or get the law on us, or do anything funny... I’ll do worse than kill you, Mr. Woodley. Is that clear?”

“...Yes.” I said again, staring blankly at the posters in my grip.

“Good. Then we have nothing else to discuss.”

Slithering his way out of the church, the conniving man left me to my thoughts and shut the wooden doors behind him, blocking out any sunlight that was seeping in before.

In the meantime, I simply stayed behind and placed a gentle hand over my brother’s, providing him some last-minute company before they put him in the grave.

“Good Lord...” I whispered under my breath. What on Earth had I gotten myself into?

Aaron was dead, my mother and sister were still on their way to Valentine, completely oblivious to what just transpired -- and now, I was getting ready to hunt down two of the most dangerous outlaws in America as a way to pay off an impossible debt.

I had no idea what the future held for me, or if I’d even make it out of this ordeal alive, but all I knew was that from this point on, I’d have to accept that my life would be out of my hands.

Death was coming for me faster than ever now. It was finally emerging from the shadows that had engulfed my family for so long, and if I didn’t brace myself for its inevitable arrival, I imagined I’d also meet an abrupt end like my father and brother.

I would have to come to terms with the idea that these following weeks may have been my last on Earth. It wasn’t what I wanted, or what I expected... but it was my reality now.

I was at the end of the line, and this was the beginning of it.


	2. A Familiar Face

SEPTEMBER, 1907

AMBARINO

FROM ARTHUR’S POV

“It is over now, Arthur...” Dutch’s despondent voice echoed in my head.

“...It’s over.”

I struck the stiff ground with my spade again, shovelin’ away even more dirt as I tried to block out my memories of the old man, but to no avail.

Those were the last words Dutch said to me before we parted ways. The last words he said before he left me to die on that mountain.

Time had moved on, the seasons had changed, our gang had scattered to the winds, and yet... part of me felt as if I were still livin’ in the old days. As if... they hadn’t entirely disappeared...

I still tried to distance myself from that life, no matter how much I may have missed them. I lived as a lawfully as this world would permit me, didn’t hurt nobody unless they hurt me, and didn’t take nothin’ that wasn’t mine.

But in spite of all that, there was still somethin’ about the Wild West that I couldn’t let go. This... feeling that that chapter in my life had been left unfinished, and I didn’t know how to close it.

I didn’t know how to move on.

Planting my spade in the ground with a firm jab, I left the grave behind for a moment as I went to fetch the body that would occupy it, traipsing my way through the golden grass while the sun heated my back.

The corpse I was buryin’ was currently in a wagon that they brought with them when we first met.

It was a sickly woman, probably in her thirties. I didn’t know who she was, or where she even came from... but she showed up at my cabin the previous night, begging for help.

She had been wounded by a knife to the gut. There was blood all over her hands, and her skin had gotten so pale that it made her look like a ghost in the night.

I didn’t know who was responsible for her injuries, but it was pretty clear to me that she had been to hell and back, so I offered her shelter for the night. Probably stupid, considering she was a total stranger, but I couldn’t just turn her away.

I tended to her wounds and bandaged her up as best I could. Gave her somethin’ to eat, too. I told her we could talk about her situation more when she woke up, but... she slipped away before that could even happen.

I found her dead on the couch this morning.

Her eyes were pale and glazed over, the blood staining her bandages had dried up, and when I went to move her body outside, her skin was cold in a way that left me feelin’ disturbed.

There was just... nothing there. No life, no humanity, no presence, no warmth... nothing. Only the lack of what was once a soul. It made me think of the old days with Dutch’s gangs, and all the chaos we used to see.

How many friends had I buried over the years? How many people had I lost? How many poor fools had I come across who thought they had a chance in this world, only to end up buried in the ground with a wooden cross standin’ above them?

Death was an uncomfortably familiar face by this point, and with every miserable day I spent tryin’ to survive in this hell I created, I could feel it wandering closer to me.

I was an old man livin’ on borrowed time, and I knew better than anyone else that my life on this planet would soon be over.

It was the fate I chose. It was the road I decided to walk on a long time ago... and there was no escapin’ it.

Carefully lowering the poor woman into the ground, I gently set her down in the center of it and shut her eyes closed, sayin’ some last-minute words before sealing the grave.

So far, no one had come around these parts lookin’ for her, and there sure as hell weren’t any churches here that could give her a proper burial.

It weren’t the best way to send someone off from this world, but I figured it was better than lettin’ her rot out in the open where the crows could feed on her.

She deserved that much, at least. If not more.

“...Poor girl...” I muttered to myself, climbin’ out of the grave.

Takin’ a step back, I removed my hat and held it in a respectful manner, gazing down at the woman’s corpse as I thought about what to say.

“...Listen um...” I started, my voice low and quiet, “I don’t know who you was, or what happened to you, but... I’m real sorry. This world ain’t normally known for its kindness, and I regret that you had to see the worst of it. I wish I coulda saved you when you came stumblin’ up to my cabin that night, but... well... sometimes, bad things just happen. And for no good reason.”

I let out a heavy sigh, glancing at the unattended shovel.

“Wherever you are now, I just hope you can find peace from the struggles you endured here. I ain’t sure what awaits us after death, but it has to be better than this. You rest easy now, miss... your hardships are over.”

Walking over to the spade, I retrieved the worn tool and gripped the shaft, simply holdin’ onto it for a second as I blankly stared at the open grave.

Would someone have done this for me? I wondered.

If I had died on that mountain all them years ago and been discovered by a stranger passin’ by, would they have taken the time to bury me? Or would they have just moved on with their day, looting whatever valuables they could find off my decaying corpse?

Probably the latter, I guessed. Compassionate folks were far and few between nowadays, but... I couldn’t exactly blame them. Good deeds were hardly ever rewarded in these parts, and I had more than my fair share of experiences where people took advantage of my compassion. It was just one of them things you could always give, but seemingly, never take.

Still, that didn’t discourage me none. Even if I didn’t get anything out of it, I was done only carin’ about myself. I had seen firsthand what apathy could do to a person, and the last thing I wanted was to become some emotionless husk. Somedays though... I questioned if I had already reached that point.

Yanking the spade free, I stuck it in the pile of dirt sittin’ beside the grave and took a small chunk out of it, preparing to refill the hole.

Right before I could do anything though, the distant sound of gunfire suddenly thundered throughout the open fields, echoing sharply as a single bullet came boltin’ straight at me from outta nowhere, missing my head by only a few centimeters.

I instantly dropped the spade and dove behind a tree, whippin’ my revolver out.

“What in the hell...?” I whispered through gritted teeth, scanning the region.

Who in God’s green earth would be shootin’ at me out here? Was it a bandit? I couldn’t recall the last time I saw bandits tearing through this place. Maybe it was a hunter mistaking me for some animal, but... I doubted it. That shot was a bit too close to have been an accident.

A thought struck me.

Oh, no...

Maybe they thought I killed the woman. Maybe they were her friend, and they thought I was tryin’ to hide the evidence by dumpin’ her body in a grave. Dammit, I knew I should’ve waited a bit longer for somebody to show up.

I decided to take a gamble and poked my head out from behind the tree, aimlessly calling out to my assailant.

“Hey!” I shouted across the field. “I don’t know who you are, but there ain’t no need for this! I did not kill the woman in that grave! Now, I know that sounds an awful lot like somethin’ a killer would say, but I’m being serious! I was trying to help her! Put your guns down, and let’s just talk about this!”

The gunfire ceased for a moment, causing a blanket of silence to fall over the land.

Did they believe me? Were they actually gonna try to talk to me? Or were they just usin’ this as an opportunity to get closer and take me by surprise?

Well, I got my answer... when another bullet came flyin’ my way.

“Shit!” I cursed, ducking behind the tree just in time. A handful of splinters sprayed off the trunk. This son-of-a-bitch had good aim. I couldn’t deny that.

Welp, it was pretty clear to me by now that this person either didn’t believe what I was sayin’ about the woman, or didn’t come here for her in the first place. If that was the case, then who the hell were they? Were they lawmen, come here to arrest me? Or were they a bounty hunter, tryin’ to take me to them? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Makin’ sure the coast was clear, I carefully moved from behind the tree to a nearby boulder, hoping to get back to my cabin so I could get out the bigger guns.

At the moment, I was armed with nothing but a single pistol, and unfortunately, I didn’t think to bring my bandolier to the funeral. Who knew I would’ve needed ammo just to bury a goddamned corpse? Supposed I should’ve started making a habit of it from here on out.

Slithering among the bushes, I quickly made my way back to the front porch as the shots continued to follow my trail, zippin’ past me and cutting through the open space.

I had managed to reach the side of my cabin by now, and upon further investigation, I suddenly realized that the culprit himself was firing at me from behind the opposite wall. How did I not notice that bastard sneakin’ so close to my home? Shit... it looked like my age was catching up to me.

Sitckin’ my gun back into its holster, I slowly reached for my knife and steadily crept around the cabin, doing my best not to rustle the hard grass beneath my feet.

The gunfire had stopped at the moment -- probably because the man was lookin’ for me -- and when I rounded the next corner, I spotted a young man hiding behind my fence, attentively searchin’ the region as he wondered where I went.

Goddammit... I thought to myself.

The man didn’t look that old. He was probably only a little over a decade younger than me. Thirty, I estimated. And on top of that, he sure as hell didn’t match the image I was carryin’ in my mind.

Instead of coming across some dirty, sleazy-looking, lowdown huckster like I expected, this man looked like he had never been out in the frontier before.

He had a fair and light complexion that was lacking in any sunburns or scars, a head of neat, short, and somewhat curly brown hair, and a pair of light-blue eyes that seemed to carry the entire world’s sorrow with them.

It was pretty evident to me that he had no experience in bounty-hunting, and when I noticed how much his hands were actually trembling, I decided to let the man live.

Didn’t mean I wouldn’t try to get some answers, though.

Prowlin’ through the tall grass, I held my breath and waited for an opening as the man continued to scan the area, only to pounce on him the minute he lowered his gun out of discouragement.

I wrapped a firm arm around his neck and hauled him away from the fence, refusing to let go no matter how much he clawed at me.

“Some audacity you’ve got, boy...” I growled, holdin’ him down, “I’d commend you if you wasn’t tryin’ to kill me.”

He choked in my grasp, struggling to get out a few broken words.

“--wait, m-mister, I...”

But he was already out.

The young man fell limp in my arms and collapsed to the ground as his gun slipped out of his hands, landin’ with a soft clatter.

I gazed down at his unconscious body, trying to process what the hell just happened.

“...Goddammit...” I muttered with a sigh.

Was this my life now? Was this what my daily routine would consist of from now on? Fightin’ off inexperienced bounty hunters who had no idea what they were truly getting into, and burying the bodies of those who didn’t care enough to learn? Part of me felt like I was becomin’ both the hangman and the undertaker.

Well, I supposed now was my chance to ask the boy some questions. I decided against killing him, considerin’ how young he was... but there was no way in hell I was gonna let him walk free without hearing his story first.

It had been a long time since anyone last showed up to my cabin, after all, and judging by the amount of visitors that were suddenly showin’ up recently, I was starting to doubt that it was all just a coincidence.

Somethin’ else was going on here. I didn’t know what, or where, but someone out there was digging up my past with Dutch and his gang, and I’d have to confront it sooner or later.

It was the very thing I had been trying to avoid for these past twelve years, and now... it finally found me.

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

ARTHUR’S CABIN

FROM JOSEPH’S POV

...Darkness. That was all I could see.

It engulfed my vision, it clouded my thoughts, and it blocked out my consciousness.

My mind had been blank ever since that man strangled me earlier, but the rest of my senses seemed to be alert again.

There was a sharp pain throbbing in the back of my head -- as if I fell on top something -- and I could also feel a tight ring of pain wrapping itself around my neck and wrists.

As for the things I could smell, my nose picked up on the scent of a freshly lit fireplace as well as a distinct hint of gunpowder, and it had been mixed with a diverse range of earthly aromas, too.

What really concerned me though, was what I was hearing.

Not too far in the distance, I overheard the soft sound of a man humming. His voice was deep and gruff, and the song itself wasn’t incredibly melodic, but it sounded like he was busy preparing something. Food, maybe?

Well, whatever was happening around me, it certainly wasn’t the scenario I expected to find myself in after being ambushed by Arthur Morgan. Part of me thought I’d wake up in a ditch somewhere, or perhaps not wake up at all, but instead... it seemed like I had been brought to a safe location.

Maybe someone found me after the fight and decided to help. Could I really have been so lucky?

Waking up with a subtle twitch, I sluggishly opened my eyes and lifted my head up so I could see, only to be welcomed by a most unexpected view.

I was in a cabin. And not just any cabin, but a beautiful one.

It was decorated with an impressive collection of fish, animal heads, rifles, and photographs hanging on the walls... and to my side, I spotted a cabinet full of all sorts of interesting objects.

There was a hat that looked like it dated back to the Civil War, a small map that had been patched together with three torn pieces, a strange-looking knife, a hatchet, and even a damned Viking helmet. Who on earth lived in this cabin? A historian, perhaps? Or a professor?

I glanced around for a second, hoping to find anyone in sight.

Just out of the corner of my eye, I managed to locate a lone man standing in the kitchen. His back was turned to me at the moment, and he was humming the same tune from before, but he hadn’t noticed me yet.

I stood up from my chair, deciding it was time to introduce myself--

Wait...

What the hell?

Why couldn’t I move?

I looked downwards in alarm, suddenly realizing that I had been tied to a chair.

Oh, shit. Oh, no.

This was Arthur Morgan’s cabin, wasn’t it? No one saved me. No one came to my rescue. That man just dragged me in here after capturing me and tied me up for some reason. Oh, Jesus Christ... what was he gonna do? Was he planning to... to torture me? Oh, no.

I needed to get out of here, and I needed to do it fast.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

Freezing at the abrupt greeting, I steadily looked over my shoulder and saw Arthur Morgan himself staring at me with a revolver in his hand, watching casually as he drank from the cup of coffee in the other.

From this angle, he appeared a lot more intimidating than before. His face seemed to be stuck in a permanent scowl, his eyes were narrowed in a squint, and the faint scar carving through his chin did nothing to help soften his appearance.

His skin was also wrinkled, his blond hair and beard had traces of gray, and despite being close to middle-age, his body seemed to be in a surprisingly fit condition. In fact, he was actually pretty built. Much more built than I anticipated. No wonder he was able to capture me so easily.

Taking a seat on the couch across from me, Arthur sauntered over to the piece of furniture and plopped himself down, afterwards placing his coffee on a nearby table.

“You know you almost got me, boy?” He said, sounding impressed. “Took me completely by surprise. I nearly fell in the grave I was digging.” He leaned back, lighting a cigarette. “Now wouldn’t that have been something.”

I remained silent, admittedly terrified of what he was going to do to me.

“Well, say something, boy!” He suddenly barked, causing me to jump.

I stumbled over my words, barely able to speak above a whisper with how hard my heart was pounding.

“A-Are you... are you gonna kill me, mister...?” 

Arthur chuckled at that, taking a drag on his cigarette. “Well, I don’t know. There a reason I shouldn’t? You did try to kill me just now. S’far as I’m concerned...” he stood up from the couch and aimed his gun at me, “...I have every right to put a bullet straight through your forehead. And then bury your body somewhere no one would ever find it. What d’you think about that?”

I swallowed in fear, not even able to look at the gun’s barrel.

“P-Please, mister... I know I wronged you, b-but... if you let me go, I can explain--”

“--You’re in no position to be makin’ demands, boy. You can explain to me what you’re doing here, but you’re gonna do it right from that chair. I think that sounds fair, don’t you?”

The outlaw sat back down, taking a moment to get comfortable before proceeding with the questions.

“Now, then... let’s start with your name. Who are you, boy? Do I know you? Because you clearly know me.”

I shook my head. “No... I don’t think so. My name’s Joseph Woodley.”

“Woodley...” Arthur repeated to himself. “No, that doesn’t sound familiar. Don’t think I’ve met any Woodleys. You from ‘round here, Mr. Woodley?”

I managed to calm down a little, steadying my voice. “No. I’m from New Hanover. Valentine, specifically.”

Arthur let out a laugh. “Valentine? Jesus... I remember that town. Been a long while since I last visited that place. Especially the saloon.” He took another drag. “Now... care to explain to me how someone from Valentine ended up all the way up here, in search of two of America’s most wanted outlaws?”

I paused. “Wait, how did you know I--”

Mr. Morgan pulled out the bounty posters the stranger gave me back in Valentine, unfolding them once they were outta his pocket.

“I like to make sure I know who I’m dealin’ with at all times, Mr. Woodley. It’s clear to me that you’re after the former members of the Van der Linde gang, one of them being the leader himself. But why? What reason do you have that would require you to gather so much money? You tryin’ to pay off a debt or something?”

A defeated sigh escaped me. There was no point in hiding anything from this man, was there?

“Yes, but it’s not the money I’m after.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes in confusion at that. “What d’you mean? What else could you be after?”

I shifted slightly in my seat, gesturing to him. “...You.”

The outlaw halted mid-action at the response and switched to a far more serious tone, obviously perplexed by what my true intentions were.

“...Who the hell sent you?” He questioned suspiciously. “Who do you owe?”

“Look,” I clarified, “I don’t know his name. He never told me.”

“Then describe him,” Arthur demanded. “Tell me what he looks like. Did you see his face?”

I nodded. “Y-Yeah. He was in his thirties...”

“Go on.”

“He had black hair, blue eyes, a beard... and a distinct scar on his cheek. He also told me he was the leader of a gang.”

Arthur only seemed more confused. “The leader of a gang? What business do you have with outlaws? You clearly ain’t the type to get involved with our kind.”

“I’m not. It was my brother Aaron who owed him, but he died recently. So now the debt’s on my head. And the only way I can pay it off is by takin’ out two of this gang’s worst enemies. Dutch van der Linde, and you. The money’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

Mr. Morgan sat back in the couch for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought.

“So... this man who approached you. He told you to hunt me down by name?”

“Yes.” I confirmed.

“Well... shit.”

Reaching over to the same table his coffee was resting on, Arthur silently grabbed an ashtray from its surface and put the cigarette out, subsequently standing up as he expressed what he was thinkin’ to me.

“Listen, Mr. Woodley,” he began, “I dunno who the hell you ran into, but we need to find out. It’s been a long time since I last had someone on my tail, and I don’t like the fact that all this funny business is suddenly happening around me. So I’ll come with you.”

I was surprised by that. “Wait, you will?”

“Yes, I will. Did you think I’d make you do this on your own when you missed five shots just tryin’ to kill one man? You’re gonna need help, Joseph. Besides, I’ve been sittin’ in this cabin for too long. It’s time I got back out there, brought things to an end. For real, this time. But first, we need to figure out who this mystery man is.”

“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?” I asked. “I don’t know anything about him!”

“You know what he looks like,” Arthur pointed out, “you know he’s the leader of a gang, and you know he’s connected to Dutch van der Linde. And on top of that, if you’re tryin’ to pay off a debt, I assume this man gave you a location to meet him once you got it all collected?”

“Yeah,” I recalled. “West Elizabeth.”

Arthur didn’t seem to pleased with the answer. “Well... it’s kinda vague, but it’s better than nothing, I guess.”

I shrugged. “So... what should we do with these clues? You know someone who could help us get a name?”

Mr. Morgan grinned and pulled out his knife, cutting me free.

“I’ve got an idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE NEXT MORNING

SHERIFF’S OFFICE, VALENTINE

FROM JOSEPH’S POV

Opening the door with a casual swing, I calmly walked into the sheriff’s office and tried to stay as relaxed as possible, not wantin’ to alert anyone of the outlaw waiting outside for me.

“Sheriff Malloy?” I greeted.

The sheriff glanced up from his desk. “Ah, good morning Mr. Woodley. How can I help you?”

I took a seat at the desk, thinkin’ about how to broach this subject without raising any major alarms.

“I, um... I’m trying to identify someone. There’s this man who I believe was connected to my brother right before he died, but I don’t know his name. All I know is that he’s an outlaw.”

That piqued Malloy’s interest. “An outlaw? Is he in Valentine?”

“No,” I said. “He’s somewhere in West Elizabeth. But he’s the leader of a pretty big gang from the sounds of it, so I was hopin’ you might know who he is, at the very least.”

The sheriff rested his elbows on the desk. “Hmm... well, if he’s as big as you say, then he’s probably caused enough trouble to get the law’s attention in more than one state. I might know him. Go on, then. Give me a description. And please, try to be as specific as possible.”

I repainted the man’s face in my head. “Okay, um... he’s white. Fit. About the same height as me, maybe a bit taller. He has short, black hair. A beard, too. But not a fully-grown one. It’s just a thick layer of scruff. His eyes are blue. I’d estimate he’s somewhere in his thirties, and he has a scar on his left cheek.”

A look of remembrance spread across Malloy’s face.

“...Well, I’ll be damned,” he whispered before bringin’ his gaze back to me. “I think I know exactly who you’re talkin’ about, son.”

My eyes widened in curiosity. “Really? Who is he?”

He let out a frustrated sigh, almost as if he had bad memories of this man.

“Andrew Milton II. But most folks just call him by his middle name, Grosvenor. We’ve locked some of his boys up in the past here in Valentine, and I can tell you, he’s a mean son-of-a-bitch, pardon my language. It’s hard to believe that someone like him would have a connection with someone as God-fearing as your brother was.”

I thought back to my conversation with Arthur.

“Well, do you know if Grosvenor has any connection to another outlaw named Dutch van der Linde?”

Malloy shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Woodley.”

“Oh, alright.”

The sheriff picked up on my disappointed tone. “I wish I could give you more information.”

“No, no,” I insisted. “It’s fine. You’ve already helped me a lot. Thank you, sheriff.”

He gave me a firm nod. “My pleasure.”

“Anyways,” I said, getting up from my chair, “I hate to leave so abruptly, but I really should get going. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me, and I don’t wanna fall behind. But thank you again. The information you’ve given me will help immensely. I appreciate it. Good day, Mr. Malloy.”

The sheriff waved goodbye. “Good day.”


	3. On My Own

From Arthur’s POV

SMITHFIELD’S SALOON

Takin’ another swig of my drink, I sat all by my lonesome at one of the tables in the saloon, minding my own business while I waited for Joseph to finish his business at the sheriff’s office.

I had to admit, it was strange bein’ back here again. Everything almost felt... nostalgic in a way. Just by glancing at the bar, I already had a dozen memories flooding through my head about that hellish brawl fight with Mr. Williamson, and the one-on-one fiasco Big Tommy ignited afterwards. 

That bastard’s ugly, bruised face still remained crystal clear in my head even to this day, and I definitely hadn’t forgotten how that window felt when he sent me crashin’ through it. 

It would’ve almost been fun if he didn’t try to drown me in the mud mere seconds later. I still remembered the enormous crowd that gathered to watch us while we beat the livin’ daylights outta one another, and on top of that, I also remembered the feller that broke us up eventually.

...Thomas Downes.

I let out a remorseful sigh at the thought of him, takin’ another sip of my beer.

When I first laid eyes on that poor man, I had no idea the effect he’d have on me in the future. In the beginning, he just seemed like the rest of the other fools Strauss had taken money from, and if I was bein’ perfectly honest, he even annoyed me to a certain extent.

Whenever I tried to do business in the shady corners of Valentine, Mr. Downes would always be the one gettin’ in my way, sticking his nose in places it didn’t belong. And not only that, but he also had the nerve to ask for my help when he was the one who owed us.

I wanted nothin’ more than to distance myself from his righteousness and preaching. I thought all his talk about makin’ the world a better place was nothing but a load of bunk, and it barely fazed me when Thomas finally passed away after succumbing to his illness.

But when I encountered his widow in Saint Denis a few months later... my whole view of the world completely shifted.

The first time I met Edith Downes, she was nothin’ but a simple housewife. She took care of their son while Thomas spent his days workin’ on the fields, and she lived her life plainly. She was a firm woman, but an honest one.

After the death of her husband though, their family fell into poverty. The whole lot of ‘em disappeared from Valentine, and it wasn’t until later that year when I finally found them again.

The second time I met Edith Downes... she was a prostitute. She had been forced into sellin’ her own body as a way to support her family, and it was all because of me.

Her son was digging his way to the center of the earth in some godforsaken coal mine while she sacrificed her dignity in order to survive, and it was entirely my fault. 

Up until that moment, I had never really seen the direct consequences of my actions before. I always knew that what we was doin’ was wrong in some way -- and sometimes, I even clashed heads with Dutch because of it -- but it never truly struck me until that particular day. 

That was when I knew somethin’ had to change. Not with the world or with Dutch, but with myself. 

I just wondered if the things I’d done these past eight years were enough to make up for it. I did my best to help others and show compassion where I could, but part of me feared that karma hadn’t gotten back to me just yet... and that it was waitin’ for the perfect moment.

I only hoped it didn’t decide to strike while all this business with Joseph and his debt was goin’ on. There was no way of tellin’ what the hell would happen to either of us in the days to come, and if something bad were to occur during our hunt, I really had no way to guarantee that we’d survive.

This whole situation just seemed to be yet another obstacle in an already long and winding road... and with no end in sight, I couldn’t help but wonder if any of this trouble was worth it in the first place.

I supposed only time would tell.

Pushin’ the swinging doors open with a soft creak, Joseph himself finally entered the saloon after about ten minutes of being away and made a beeline straight for me, clearly feelin’ a bit frustrated about something.

“There you are.” He said in an irritated tone. “I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you.”

I shrugged, still leanin’ back in my chair. “I told you I’d meet you outside.”

“Yeah, outside. Not in the saloon.”

I sighed. “Don’t sass me, boy. I got enough o’ that from the bartender earlier. Now, c’mon. Sit down. Have a drink. Beer’s getting warm.”

Not having the energy for an argument, Joseph simply decided to drop the subject and hastily took a seat across from me, evidently feelin’ worn out about everything that was going on. 

I guessed I shouldn’t have been surprised. If my memory served me correctly, Joseph mentioned that his brother died recently, and now -- amidst all the other chaos -- he also had to worry about payin’ off his debt to one outlaw while being dragged around by another.

Maybe I was bein’ too harsh on the kid? I figured it would be best if I approached him with a cold shoulder -- on account of not wantin’ to get attached -- but... perhaps it wouldn’t hurt if I eased up on the man a bit.

We were on the same side, after all. His motivations may have been different, but ultimately, we was both tryin’ to take down this mystery man. And if I ever found myself stuck in a life-or-death situation, the last thing I wanted was to rely on a man who hated me. 

Maybe it was worth gettin’ to know him a little bit, at least for survival’s sake. I doubted he was too interested in my life or what I did, but... who knew? Perhaps the boy would surprise me.

Sliding a beer towards Joseph, I tried to get the man’s attention and leaned forward in my chair, hopin’ to break the silence.

“So... you get any answers from the sheriff?”

Joseph ignored the beer. “Yes, actually.”

I quirked a brow, waiting for an explanation. “...And?”

He brought his gaze to me. “And... if his information is correct, then the man hunting you down is someone named Andrew Milton II. But most folks just call him Grosvenor, apparently.”

I nearly choked on my drink at that.

“Milton?” I repeated, soundin’ much more shocked than I intended.

“Yeah,” Joseph confirmed quietly, noticing my sudden change in tone. “Why? You know that name?”

A low grumble escaped me. “...All too well.”

“Who is he?”

“Well, I dunno who Andrew Milton the second is, but his father was a Pinkerton agent who hunted down our gang relentlessly back in the day. Followed us all over the goddamn country. Killed some of our people, too.”

Joseph seemed surprised at that. “Grosvenor’s father was a Pinkerton? Ironic, considering the path he’s taken in life. What happened to to his father?”

“Died.” I explained plainly. “He was shot by one of our people not too long before the gang fell apart.”

A look of realization spread across Joseph’s face. 

“...D’you think that’s why Grosvenor wants you and Dutch dead? To avenge his father? It makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“But neither of us even killed him!” I corrected. “It was someone entirely different. Though, I’m guessin’ Grosvenor probably doesn’t know that. That, or he doesn’t care.”

Joseph gave me an inquisitive glance. “So... how d’you think we should proceed?”

I took one final swig of my drink before firmly planting the bottle down, quickly deciding what my next step would be.

“You said Grosvenor’s waitin’ for you in West Elizabeth, right? I think I’ll start making my way over there tomorrow morning. Possibly even tonight. See if I can’t track the bastard down before he knows I’m coming.”

The other man’s head perked up in curiosity. “Wait, you’re goin’ without me?”

I let out an amused scoff. “Yes, unless you’re secretly Landon Ricketts in disguise. In that case, I could use a sharpshooter on this journey.”

Joseph paused. “But... how’re you gonna take Grosvenor down by yourself? That man has an entire gang backing him up! Surely you could use an extra pair of hands?”

Still, I refused. “Listen. Kid. Even though you tried to put a bullet through my head the other day, you do seem like a nice feller... and frankly, I’m tired of watchin’ innocent folks get killed. I’ll locate Grosvenor on my own, find out what he wants with me, and then put the little shit in the ground once he’s finished explaining. As for you...”

I stood up from my chair and gestured to the saloon’s doors. “I assume you’ve got some sort of family left, don’t you? Go back to them. Live your life while you still have the chance. Trust me, the last thing you wanna do is throw your future away for a gang of outlaws like Grosvenor and his men. It never ends well.”

Contrary to what I expected, Joseph insisted that he come along. 

“I’m... I’m sorry, Mr. Morgan, but I can’t just let you do this on your own. It wouldn’t be right. I dragged you into this mess, after all. And besides, if Grosvenor finds out you’re comin’ after him, he’ll know I asked for help. He’ll kill what remains of my family. I can’t let that happen.”

I took on a stricter tone, placing my hands on the table’s surface. “You ain’t listenin’ to me, Joseph. If you really wanna tag along for this trip, you better be ready to leave everything in your previous life behind. You understand me? Because there isn’t a single goddamn guarantee that we’ll even make it to West Elizabeth without gettin’ killed or worse. Anything could happen to us out in the frontier, so if you wanna come, you better be fully prepared to die.”

I looked sternly into the boy’s eyes, testing his resolve. “...Are you?”

Joseph’s determination flickered in the face of that question and his gaze quickly fell to the floor, makin’ it quite clear that he had some doubts. 

If I was bein’ honest, I was mainly just trying to scare the boy outta putting himself in danger. Even though I hadn’t lost all confidence in my survival skills just yet, there really was no way to promise that either of us would come out of this journey alive. And I certainly didn’t wanna risk gettin’ the both of us killed. Not after everything I’d seen this week.

“...N-No.” Joseph muttered gently, reconsidering the issue. “No, I don’t think I am.”

I gave him an understanding nod, softening my voice. 

“Good. That means you still have somethin’ to live for. So go live for it. In the meantime, I’ll take care of Grosvenor. If I succeed, you’ll never hear from either of us again. If not, then... I suppose you’ll find out soon enough.”

I threw a casual wave at him, takin’ my leave. “Good day.”

“...W-Wait!” Joseph called out, stopping me in my tracks. He rose from his seat and paused for a moment, thinkin’ about how to approach his next words. 

“Just... be careful out there. Okay? I’d hate to see you gettin’ hurt on my account.”

I sighed in annoyance. “It ain’t on your account. I’m doin’ this to get Grosvenor off my back. Same as you.”

Still, the man appeared grateful. “Well, even if you’re not doin’ it for me, allow me to say thank you. I wouldn’t stand a chance going after Grosvenor on my own, so I appreciate you lendin’ me a helping hand. Hopefully, I can repay you someday. If you survive.”

I nodded firmly at him, finally makin’ my way out the saloon. “Don’t thank me yet. I’ll tell you when it’s time for celebration. Anyways... take care of yourself, Mr. Woodley. Things can get rough out there.”

Leavin’ Joseph to his own devices, I quickly gathered my things and immediately headed for the entrance of the saloon, eager to get this business over with. 

It had been a long time since I last set out for a journey as demanding as this, and with how much my body was aging nowadays, I wanted to make sure I got a head start on this hunt... but that weren’t the only reason for my swift exit.

Part of me also wanted to get the hell out of Valentine so I wouldn’t change my mind about lettin’ Mr. Woodley come along. He may not’ve been as skillful or attentive as some of the other gunslingers I’d met in my life, but... I couldn’t deny that the idea of someone watchin’ my back out there was tempting.

I mean, as much as I hated to admit it, I weren’t as spry as I used to be back in the days of the Van der Linde gang. I could still handle a gunfight or two without breakin’ much of a sweat, but it was getting more and more obvious everyday that my body was slowly withering away. 

Hmph. I guessed Dutch had a point all them years ago. Time was indeed a bastard.

Still, in spite of how big the risk here may have been, I just couldn’t bring myself to drag Joseph into this war. He was nothin’ but an innocent soul simply trying to get by in life, and the last thing I wanted was to see him get hurt -- or worse, killed -- for a fight that should’ve been brought to my doorstep in the first place.

It would’ve done no good for him to go off and get shot between the eyes by some random group of thugs, and with everything I’d seen during my time as an outlaw, I knew better than anyone else that a life like that was nowhere near as romantic as the novels made it out to be.

Joseph was better off at home. He could argue with me all he wanted, but no matter how bad things got in his personal life, there was no way in hell they’d ever compete with what was goin’ on out in the open.

The Wild West may have been long gone, but the trail of death it left behind was still very much alive.

And for the first time in eight years, I was wandering straight into it.


End file.
